


A Blessing in Disguise

by alienlover13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienlover13/pseuds/alienlover13
Summary: More than anything, Draco and Harry each want to receive one of the prestigious teaching appointments (in their respective subject areas) for their final year of school. But what happens when Harry's chosen – and Draco's not?





	

The letter came. Finally. They’d sure made him wait long enough, and there was no guarantee of good news. There it was, pristinely delivered by a regal great horned owl that clearly conditioned to give Draco no indication whatsoever about the news contained within the envelope. Because he was quite alone, Draco permitted himself a brief gulp before reaching out to unfasten the letter from the owl’s leg (no, his hands were _not_ shaking, thank you very much). Thank Merlin Harry was still at work. Draco didn’t want any witnesses, especially the Saviour, no matter how much he loved the git, to witness his grief and despair should he not get the position.

It was more likely than not that Draco would be rejected. He knew this, and still, he let himself dare hope. His qualifications were superior; among the other thirty or so students studying for their Potions Mastery at Hogwarts, Draco was ranked first in his class. Grad students, usually a collaborative and friendly bunch, turned cutthroat competitive when it came to the precious teaching appointments. The chance to instruct the first years – and then the second years the following year – in one’s subject area was too desirable an opportunity to risk friendship mucking everything up.

After three painstaking revisions to his application, Draco had carefully submitted the paperwork, praying the committee would take him seriously. Unfortunately, as a former Death Eater, he was hardly the most desirable candidate. Honestly – he grudgingly admitted to himself, running his finger over the seal on the envelope – he was lucky to have been admitted to the program at all. Getting the opportunity to teach would just be the cherry on top of an already-successful academic career.

Taking a deep breath, Draco decided it was time. He wedged his finger underneath the corner of the envelope, beyond caring about proper mail etiquette. Unfolding the letter carefully, he skimmed the first line of the envelope, heart catching in his throat:

“Dear Mr. Malfoy,

The Graduate Committee of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has reviewed your application for Teaching Associate for Potions 100. The Committee was very impressed with your application, but unfortunately only a limited number of positions are available. I have accepted the Committee’s recommendation, and I write to let you know that you will be appointed as an alternate Teaching Associate for one section of Potions 100. Should a TA position become available, you will be appointed at that time.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall”

Draco’s eyes blurred with tears. He crumpled the letter and pitched it into the grand fireplace, snatching his wand out of his sleeve and incinerating the parchment without verbal incantation. All his hard work, down the drain. He’d consider applying again, but this was his last year. There would never be another opportunity.

He stood there, slumped over, chest heaving, wand threatening to drop out of his grip as he tried to come to terms with the fact that, no, he would not be teaching his own Potions class come September. It wasn’t like he’d already gone and designed the whole syllabus already – oh wait, that was part of the application process, silly him – or had started drafting lesson plans in his head, thinking about the best possible ways he could convey the subject matter.

This crushing rejection was the _exact_ reason why he never took risks anymore. Merlin, he could just throttle Potter for talking him into taking the leap.

“Just give it a go, Draco, what’s the worst thing that can happen? They say no? Then you’re just right back where you started. There’s nothing to lose.”

Easy for him to say. _Potter_ didn’t have to worry about the humiliation that would run through him when Draco faced his peers, the ones (the _less qualified ones_ , no doubt) that had been hired instead of him. The ones that would celebrate their final year by doing what they _actually_ wanted to do with their life. Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted to pursue teaching as a career, but then again, how could he be sure since _he hadn’t been hired_.

Something in him broke at that moment, and Draco threw down his wand and ran for the door, wrenching it open and throwing himself outside in the cold. He sat there, on one of the twin chairs he and Harry often used to watch the sun set, arms crossed across his chest, as his body betrayed him and tears ran down his face. Another hour passed, and Draco went from angry and disappointment to simply feeling numb. The cold, wintery breeze had chilled him to the point where he felt as though he could simply melt away in the night.

“Draco!” called Potter’s enthusiastic voice. “Draco, dammit, where are you?”

Draco could hear him slamming doors, checking all of his favorite haunts; the kitchen was usually where he waited Harry to get home from his summer class – after three long hours of what Harry referred to as “mind-numbing torture,” he was always thrilled to have Draco and a hot dinner waiting for him.

Potter continued to stump around the ground floor until he finally threw open the back door and shouted, “Draco, are you out here? It’s bloody freezing, it is.”

“Over here, Harry,” Draco answered, resolving on the spot to not let Harry know about his rejection just yet.

“Malfoy!” Potter grinned, running out of the house without closing the door to launch himself at Draco for a giant bear hug. “My letter came today! This next year is going to be fantastic, we’ll be teaching together, graduating together.” Draco held Harry tightly, clutching at his neck as though they’d never see each other again. Taking Draco’s intimate embrace for excitement, Harry whispered, “Merlin, Draco, things are finally going right for a change.”

Tears returned to Draco’s eyes, but he willed them away with every bit of self-control he possessed. Malfoy etiquette training came in handy more often than he’d ever expected.

“I need you now,” Harry breathed, placing his hand on Draco’s waist and leading him back toward the house. “God, you’re freezing.”

Draco grasped Harry’s arm and frog-marched him towards their bedroom. “I’ll be warm quite soon enough,” he said quietly, trying to convey desire.

They barely made it through the bedroom door before Harry was kissing Draco, gently unbuttoning his outer layers and stripping him of his undershirt. “You’re so beautiful,” Harry said reverently. Draco couldn’t respond. He initially kissed Harry to shut him up, but found the emotions he’d tried so hard to quash start coming out in their kiss. Pushing Harry down on their bed, Draco Vanished the rest of their clothes and set himself to the task of sucking Harry’s cock.

Harry, for his part, was thrilled. “So good, Draco,” he murmured, gently stroking Draco’s hair. When they were in bed together was the only time he didn’t mind having it mussed up; after all, his hair would have to be redone anyway.

Draco pulled every trick he knew to pleasure Harry, wanting their love-making to end. He loved Harry, and he loved the sex, but apparently crushing disappointments weren’t a major turn-on.

“Wait, wait,” Harry urged, tugging gently on Draco’s shoulders. “This is going to be over really soon if you don’t stop doing that.”

With an internal sigh, Draco snaked his way back up Harry’s body and went in for another kiss. It helped slightly – hey, at least he was hard – and Harry began preparing him with fingers, reaching for the spot that made Draco sigh with pleasure. Of course it felt nice, but Draco’s body wasn’t prepared to handle such feelings. He was still in mourning.

“I’m ready,” he choked out, flopping over on his back and pulling Harry down on top of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw concern flash over Harry’s face, and did his best to emulate the moans he’d been making just the other night. Mollified, Harry gently lined up and started pushing in. Draco forced himself to relax, knowing that, unless he really, really wanted to take it, this could turn painful really fast. Sure enough, his inner sphincter continued to clench, preventing Harry from sliding inside.

This was not a new phenomenon, but it didn’t usually take this long for him to relax. He just needed to focus his mind…Merlin, now there was pain all around his inner ring, as though Draco had never done this before. Harry wasn’t moving quickly, but every little movement only increased Draco’s discomfort. He prayed for Harry to suddenly learn Legilimency because this was too much, it needed to stop, stop, _stop_.

There came a push that was ever-so-slightly harder which caused Draco to involuntarily yelp in pain, even as he immediately cursed himself for making noise. A split second hadn’t even passed before Harry was pulling out, turning horrified eyes onto Draco.

“Love, I’m so sorry,” he stammered, climbing off of Draco.

“No, not at all,” Draco snuffled, “Its fine, we should keep going.”

Instead of obeying, Harry snuggled up on his side next to Draco, who was still lying – albeit rather stiffly – on his back. Without speaking, Harry ghosted his fingers over Draco’s cheek, stroking his skin softly. That sweet touch was all the encouragement Draco’s tears needed; they streamed noiselessly down his face while Draco tried not to breathe for fear of snuffling.

Harry continued to stroke and comfort, waiting for Draco to calm down. Their silence went on, comfortable despite Harry’s clear unease, until he felt ready to speak. This was going to be painful, no matter how he tried to phrase it.

“I didn’t get it, alright, Potter?” Draco tried to admit it gruffly, but instead he sounded more uncertain and wretched.

“The TAship?”

“Yes.”

“Are you kidding? You were a bloody shoe-in, for Merlin’s sake, I thought _I_ was the one who had to be worried.”

“Come off it, Potter,” Draco sighed, sitting up and grabbing for a towel to wipe off the excess lube. “There are talented people in the DADA program, but you’re one of the best."

“And so are you, Malfoy,” Harry murmured. “None of your peers can touch you when it comes to academic skill.”

“Only that’s not all they were looking for, were they,” snapped Draco. “Clearly.”

“What did your letter say? Was it an outright rejection?” Harry asked, taking the cloth from Draco before he gave himself rug burns from scrubbing too hard.  

Draco glared at him. “It was worse. ‘Mr. Malfoy, since _obviously_ you’re a good choice but not our first pick, we’d like to appoint you as the official _alternate_.”

For some reason, Harry perked up. “But that’s good, Draco!” After a death stare, Harry toned down his enthusiasm. “But really, there’s still a chance. You could still get to teach –”

“I’m not going to get to fucking teach!” Draco shouted, hoisting himself out of bed and grabbing the nearest delicate object. He hurtled it into the wall, the subsequent shattering covering both him and Harry in shards of glass. “None of those sodding bastards will ever give up their position. Hell, I sure wouldn’t!”

Furiously, he swiped at his hair to dislodge the glass gathered there. He was reminded of his nakedness as he swung around to face Harry, who seemed supremely unaffected by Draco’s tantrum. “Obviously I’m still not good enough, alright? I couldn’t tell you before, because how could I ruin your happy notions that life is getting better for us?!” He picked up another glass ornament and, on second thought, hurtled it at the opposite wall that was much further away. The shower of glass didn’t placate him in the slightest.

“We’re never going to get to be _normal_!” He kicked at the chest containing all of his Potions books, now doubting his ability to continue in this program. “An entire primary school education and advanced study _at_ bloody Hogwarts and they _still_ see me as less than.”

With a sob, Draco threw himself back onto the bed, sending out manic brain waves of _do not touch me yet_ to Harry. Somehow, he understood, or was excellent at reading Draco by now, because he restrained himself and remained calmly seated.

“I know I’ve been guilty of sounding entitled in the past,” Draco said, voice muffled by his pillow. “And I’m probably going to again, but dammit, Harry, I was _meant_ for that position. They couldn’t have found a better fit. I don’t want to say I _deserve_ it more than anyone else, but –”

“But you do,” Harry broke in. “Some of our cohort were educated abroad and are really new to the school – you know the students, the culture; and you’re the top of the class. You deserved the appointment, Draco,” he said softly.

Draco let himself cry freely for the first time that night, and Harry took his letting go as cue to move in and gently stroke Draco’s back. “You’re allowed to be mad,” he said firmly. “I think I’m mad enough for you right now, but yeah, you’re allowed to be mad.”

They sat in silence, glass rubbing against their exposed legs and arms every time they moved, but Draco had never felt so at home before. Harry allowed him to stew, thinking and occasionally voicing all of his bitter, resentful thoughts – and, better yet – absolutely didn’t judge him for them. It was only once midnight had come and gone that they retrieved pajamas and cleaned up the shards, Harry comforting Draco with small touches all the while.

As Draco was drifting off to sleep, spooned tightly against Harry’s chest, there was a determined whisper. “Draco,” Harry hissed. “Wake up.”

“I’m awake,” Draco groaned, wishing for the respite of what would be a mercifully dreamless sleep.

“I’ve decided I’m not going to accept the TAship.”

It took a second to register in Draco’s sleepy mind, but once it did, he spun around and fixed Harry with a glare. “You’d have to be absolutely out of your mind, Potter. Why on earth would you do that?”

“Too many reasons to name,” Harry said simply. “One of them being I don’t want you to hate me for the rest of our lives.”

“Harry…”

“I know you wouldn’t mean to, but you would,” affirmed Harry. “It’s okay, I’d probably feel the same way if I was you,” he said reassuringly as Draco opened his mouth to protest.

There was another long silence. “I don’t know what to say,” Draco said finally. “I’d try to convince you otherwise, but you barely listen to me as it is.”

Harry laughed. “I encourage you to keep trying, but it wouldn’t here no matter what you said. I’m decided.”

“So what are you going to do for this year, then? How are you going to prepare for a career?”

“Draco, do I have to remind you that I vanquished the darkest wizard in our history? And besides, I’m sure we’ll find something to do. Together.”

In a rare display of affection, Draco threw himself at Harry, nuzzling into the crook between his neck and shoulder. “You’re so good to me,” he said brokenly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do,” said Harry soothingly, taking advantage of the situation and stroking Draco’s hair, enjoying the way the soft locks felt running over his fingers. “If you’ll have me, I’m yours. So, what do you say, Draco? Will you have me, then?”

He clutched Harry with his every remaining ounce of strength, wishing he could merge their two bodies into one. The disappointment was still crushing, but at least they would face the challenges of this year together.

Draco’s reply was one simple word that conveyed everything in his heart.

“Always."          

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hijinx](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689333) by [spindlekiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spindlekiss/pseuds/spindlekiss)




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